


We Always Knew

by swinchester83



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, I can't tag this without spoilers so I'll leave them in the fic instead, Spoilers for S11, its just really sad, oh boy, red meat, this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:45:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6442081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swinchester83/pseuds/swinchester83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean find out the truth about what happened when the other wasn't around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Always Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: discussion of the suicide attempt. This story is pretty heavy, I just wrote it for the angst. It's meant to be really sad and heartbreaking. So.... Enjoy?
> 
> Just to clear this up, the first little part is in a motel room, while the rest is in the bunker.

"Dean," Sam pushes the name from his chest. He whines and his body twitches and he doesn't know it but he starts saying Dean's name over and over. As far as Dean can tell, Sam is still asleep, but he probably wishes he wasn't.

Dean waits it out for a minute more, just to see if Sam settles down. He throws his blanket off so the chill reaches his skin. He needs to stay awake to be able to keep watch. The frantic noises coming from Sam's side of the room are starting to worry him. He knows Sam's nightmares are probably a helluva lot worse than anyone else's but, regardless, he gives it another second.

A sharp cry of pain, like a muffled scream, followed by slight thrashing is what finally causes Dean to jump out of bed. He hovers by his brother's side, not wanting to get hit if Sam starts going all exorcist on him. He puts a hand on Sam's shoulder and gently shakes him.

"Sam," Dean says calmly. He watches Sam's hand swipe across his stomach to his bandages and has to push the hand away before he starts ripping at the gauze. "Wake up, kiddo."

With a dramatic gasp, Sam opens his eyes. He jumps out of bed like he's got somewhere he needs to be but stops short. He cries out and doubles over in pain, and Dean is right there by his side once again as Sam drops to his knees.

"Yo, hey, where do you think you're going?" Dean asks, holding one hand firmly against Sam's chest and the other on his back.

"I gotta-" Sam shakes his head, pressing a hand to the rug to try to stand. "Corbin's trying to kill me."

"Whoa, alright now. You already dropped him, Sammy."

Sam turns his head to stare at Dean wild and confused. There's a funny feeling, a weightlessness and a... dampness, that causes him to look down. He focuses on his stomach as best as he can in the dark and sees blood pouring out from his wound. He slaps a hand over it and shoves Dean off him.

Dean has to grab his brother's shoulders before he collapses into the rug again. He grips on tight and says sternly, "Sam! Calm down."

Sam lets himself get pushed back down onto his bed. He tries to stay sitting up but falls onto his back when the hole in his stomach starts burning. He chokes on his breath as a flash of sharp, hot pain shoots through him. Dean's still trying to figure out what the hell he needs to do, when Sam's gasps shallow out. He looks up at his little brother's face and quickly realizes he's asleep.

*****

As he's gotten used to for the past couple days, pain is what brings Sam's sleep to a halt. He groans and slaps blindly at the end table that's supposed to have a bottle of painkillers on it. When he can't find it, he finally opens his eyes and checks the floor. It's not there in his immediate line of sight and he really doesn't feel like getting up to check under his bed.

"I thought I heard you whackin' around," Dean says with a smirk, walking right into Sam's room.

"Good morning," Sam grumbles and continues in his grumpy morning voice, "Where's the pills?"

"I think you've had enough of those."

"Look, I'm all for toughing it out when it's just a cold but this really fucking hurts."

"I know. But listen, Sam, they're causing a bad reaction and I don't like it."

"Not one that I've seen- and I liked the other effects."

"You don't remember the nightmares?"

"What? No?"

"Last night. You woke up, said Corbin was trying to kill you."

"I- that... wasn't a nightmare."

"What?"

"Dean, he-"

"That son of a bitch tried to kill you?"

Sam sits up but he stares past Dean, spotting a dirty sock under his dresser. He keeps his attention there while Dean gets so mad he can't speak.

Finally, Dean scoffs and snaps, "And you didn't say anything?"

"What were you gonna do, shoot him again? In front of his wife?"

"Shut the hell up."

"It doesn't matter now anyways."

"I- yeah it does."

"Why? Are you gonna go back to purgatory and kill him?"

"This isn't funny, Sam, I thought you were dead!"

"I knew it."

Through his rage, Dean realizes what he's confessed. His blood is too hot and his mind is too fogged to think rationally about it.

"So what'd you really do? In that hospital?" Sam says, squaring his shoulders, trying to look bigger from his spot on his bed.

"I told you."

"No. No, you lied to me. What did you do when you thought I was dead?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit!"

"I killed myself, alright? You happy?"

Sam's heart stops. Suddenly the lights are too bright and the generator powering the bunker is too loud. "You what?" Sam says, head pounding through the headache that quickly spiked.

"Downed a handful of the deadliest batch of medications I could mix up and let 'em take me out."

The buzzing is really starting to get to him and Sam doesn't realize why until he feels himself shaking. He's the one that died in the first place, why is he grieving? His eyes are wet with tears that he doesn't want to let fall. Instead, he blinks them away and clears his throat, staring at the cold floor beneath his feet.

Dean speaks softly but firmly, "I was gonna make a deal with the reaper."

Sam can't reply. He doesn't know how to react. God, he wants to be so pissed. He wants to stand up and shove Dean against the wall and beat the living shit out of him. But he's shocked and scared and he feels like the kid that lost his girlfriend so many years ago. Except this time, his loved one is still here. He's standing right in front of him, holding that authoritative stance like it's his job. Like he needs to be intimidating at all times, even in front of someone who's seen him at his worst.

In the end, Sam's body opts for aching. He feels small and weak and there's a pain in his chest that's matching the one in his stomach. The fear of losing his brother rushes back in harder than it has in a long time and he can't hold back. His elbows press into his trembling legs and they support his head as he buries his face in his palms. 

"I am in so much pain." Each word punches out from Sam's gut like the punches he wishes he was throwing. "I got shot and almost bled to death and yet it doesn't compare to the knowledge that you place _so little value_ on your own life. I mean.. How am I supposed to live, knowing that you'll just kill yourself if I die?"

It's Dean's turn to stand there in silence. He has absolutely no idea what he can say or do to fix this. Every muscle in his body is tensing, trying to force his out of that bedroom. His feet are too heavy to move and he's left standing there in front of his baby brother. The same little boy that trusted him to keep him safe all those lonely nights in all those different motels. There are salty tears running down red cheeks and Dean can't tell if this is the Sam he's known for quite some time now or if it's his kid brother screaming for a bandaid.

Dean clenches his fists and says, "We always knew I couldn't live without you."

It didn't need to be said out loud. Dean knows that, and he also knows Sam didn't need to be reminded. But he says it and he has to live with the way it makes Sam choke. It breaks his goddamn heart to watch those brown eyes spill over one more time, but it's even worse when Sam tries to speak.

"I'm so tired," Sam whispers. "I just want to go back to the way it was."

"It's always been like this, Sammy," Dean says, forcing himself on one knee. He tries to sneak into Sam's vision, let him see his face, let him know it hurts him just as much. "Since Cold Oak, since the crash, since I got you at Stanford."

Sam turns away. He doesn't want to see his brother's face. He can't do it. One look at that stupid face and Sam'll forget everything. He'll forget that this isn't how life is supposed to work. They're not supposed to willingly sacrifice themselves for each other. But they always do.

"Please." Sam doesn't know what he's asking for but he knows he needs something. He just can't figure out if it's solace or solitude.

Dean wants to give him time but he's not a patient man so he scoots closer and puts a hand on his brother's arm. "Sam, I need you to talk to me."

"... I told you already. I'm tired."

"Okay. Well, then you get some rest. I'll come back later, after these painkillers flush out of your system, and we'll talk."

"About what?"

Dean doesn't reply. In fact, once Sam blinks, Dean isn't even there anymore. He's gone and the buzzing from the generator is gone and the lights are starting to dim. Sam starts to panic, feeling the room fall away from him. He grabs at the blankets that slip through his fingers and watches the pillows pass as he begins falling. A whooshing of wind coupled with the screams of monsters fills Sam's head. It's all he has as a backtrack as the world turns black.

*****

"I love you so much, Sam."

It's whispered like a deep, dark secret, hot in Sam's ear. His skin tingles where he can feel lips ghosting over it. He hears a thick swallow and feels the weight of an arm tightening around his chest. He opens his eyes slowly, the room as dark as it was when it began falling apart a moment ago.

Sam's glad the arm around him isn't trapping his own arm and he uses the free limb to reach for the lamp. The movement startles the man next to him as does the light that blinds both of them. Sam falls back onto the mattress and stares up at the ceiling. His eyes flicker sideways when he sees Dean's messy hair come into view.

"Sam? What's wrong?" Dean asks so innocently, Sam thinks for a second that maybe the Dean he was just talking to isn't the same one he's looking at.

"I think I-" Sam starts. Before he can continue his thought, he quickly turns back to the end table and sees it. It sits there, blinding him more than the bulb above it, in its orange and white little container. Sam grabs the bottle of pills and chucks it, left handed and uncoordinated, at the wall. He hopes it lands near the trash but as long as it's away from him, he can't bring himself to care where it ends up.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asks, more urgent than his last questions.

"Don't want 'em," Sam says, quiet and blunt.

"I take it you're feeling better then?"

Sam rolls himself over to face him. He plants a flat palm on his brother's warm, bare chest and lets himself study the scene. His long fingers stretch across Dean's collarbones and then he curls them gently under his chin. He strokes those familiar, soft lips with his thumb and that's when Dean decides to talk.

"You gonna talk to me?" he says.

Of course, instead of speaking, Sam licks his lips and presses them to Dean's like he scared he's gonna lose him. Maybe he is, maybe that's why he's acting weird. Dean doesn't know, he can't always tell with the kid, even if they have spent almost their entire lives together.

When Sam pulls away, he places his head on Dean's chest and he whispers, "I love you, too."

Dean's eyes widen. Not because he's shocked to hear Sam say it, but because if he heard that, then what else did he hear when Dean thought he was asleep?


End file.
